


Violent World

by ilija



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Romance, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fail!sex, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mild Blood, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilija/pseuds/ilija
Summary: Ichiruki-centric drabbles, x-posted from Tumblr.Complete.





	1. speedwrite

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of my Ichiruki drabbles, cross-posted from tumblr. Ratings will vary and I'll put them in each chapter note, but as explicit content is prevalent I've chosen E-rating to be safe.

The white of Rukia’s knuckles don’t even show against her pale skin as she holds on to Ichigo’s shirt for dear life. The long forgotten homework they’d both discarded crumples underneath Rukia’s back, and Ichigo starts to comment but Rukia has zero patience and swallows his words in a kiss that makes his toes curl.

His moan makes her lips tingle.

“Rukia,” he murmurs and slips his tongue into her mouth, chasing her gasp as it hisses over her teeth when his hips cant upward and her hips roll to meet his. One paper sticks to Rukia’s shoulder and she’s sure her shoulder is going to have a temporary calculus tattoo but that’s later, this is now, and Ichigo is hunkered over her, fucking her across the low fold out table they had pulled out, her thighs tight around his waist and his fingers kneading her breasts. It’s good, feels really good, the air from the fan cooling the bare skin peeking out from under their clothes.

Once she gets her mouth back, Rukia pants and clutches Ichigo’s shoulders. “Hey,” she whispers, kissing his ear, “F-faster.”

Ichigo, beyond speaking, acquiesces with a nod and picks up the pace, burying his nose in the damp shadows of Rukia’s neck and inhaling deeply, the exhale out stuttering as she clenches around his dick. Rukia retaliates by biting the lobe of Ichigo’s ear and he thrusts particularly sharply. She moans and he thumbs her breasts once more before shuffling his hands down her stomach and under her dress, clutching her ass in a firm grip, the pale flesh yielding underneath his grip and Ichigo feels a droplet of sweat fall from his jaw.

“God,” Ichigo chokes, “ _Damn it_ ,” the tension coiling around him, something primal has Ichigo driving deeper into Rukia, the slickness between her thighs making her accommodating enough but the unchanging tightness of her small body _pulls_ him in, skin to skin, and every time Ichigo bottoms out Rukia jolts against him, breathing and moaning and biting at the collar of Ichigo’s tee.

“ _Use your words_.”

If it’s possible Ichigo flushes more, pulling back and looking anywhere but her face even as his fingertips trace the curves of her ass. “It’s—hot, it’s so hot, _Rukia_ ,” her name drips from his lips like water. Rukia spares a hand to toy with the shaggy hair at the base of his neck when he lowers his forehead to the space between her breasts. In this position she has to angle her hips to meet his thrust and grind, his cock constantly filling and rubbing her raw but delicious and she’s having a hard time trying to keep her voice low, especially when Ichigo turns his head to kiss her breast and dot the skin with small licks.

Finally, _finally_ , she thinks when Ichigo straightens and reaches between them to thumb at her clit, the pleasurable shocks drawing her taut as a bowstring. She too reaches down between them, encouraging as she clutches to Ichigo’s wrist like a lifeline, and the tell-tale shuddering and tensing of her body has him on edge.

“Oh, Rukia, ah— _ah_!”

Suddenly the earth disappears out from under them—or more accurately, the table gives out—and Rukia finds herself entangled with a long lean set of limbs and torso and a very painful solid _thing_ stuck between them. Her legs stick up in an almost comical fashion and both her and Ichigo’s eyes are both wide as they try to catch their breath.

“Wh-what was—“

“Rukia—you’re crushing _it_ —“

“It? I—then get _off_ me you giant oaf!” Rukia smacks at Ichigo’s back and without hesitation he pulls back, falling onto his haunches and scrubs across his sweaty forehead. Rukia sits up across from him and, looking down, assesses the mess around her and between her thighs.

“I can’t believe it. You broke the table.”

“As if!” Ichigo retorts, the lack of true effort behind it softening the edge, “Don’t push all the blame on me. It’s not like I was the only willing participant.”

“Hm,” Rukia responds as she touches the sticky spots on the insides of her thighs, damp from Ichigo’s sweat and her wetness, and her fingers visibly glisten when she pulls them away.

Ichigo, pretending not to notice, tries to divert his attention to moving the snapped halves of the table out of harm’s way. He almost rises to his full height before Rukia’s voice stops him.

“Do you think the bed would be more sturdy?”


	2. resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @deathberryprompts for the theme ‘endings’. Time traveler AU.

It’s a profession to live one hundred times, each time branching off into some new tragedy or resolution. Ichigo refuses to call them happy endings because each time his hands are empty and the pale ghost of her touch is nothing more than a memory.

“Ichigo, how am I supposed to drink this juice box thing?”

They sit under the same sky where they’ve held hands ninety-nine times in ninety-nine lives, never in the same situation and only sometimes winding up together, never forever.

The first time he helps her poke the straw through, their fingers don’t touch. Now, Ichigo grabs her wrist on impulse like he’s wanted to do so many times in so many more situations that he panics every time she pulls away.

He holds his breath and _knows_ she knows and Rukia, she simply breathes, “Ichigo,” and lets him hold on again.


	3. don't lie to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fic. Ichigo is tsundere and Rukia’s having none of it.

“Ichigo.” Rukia crosses her arms and looks every part of the pissed off girlfriend. “What’s in your hands.”

There’s no question, just demand. He blurts the first thing that comes to mind, which is unfortunately, “Keigo lent me one of his dirty magazines.”

Rukia eyes his crotch for a good five seconds then returns to drilling holes into his head with her eyes.

“Seriously, it’s gross.”

“You won’t even undress in the same room as me. I’m not impressed by your terrible lying, Ichigo.”

Somehow, telling her the truth would be even more embarrassing, so he backs away, hands still tucked behind him, and tries to walk backwards up the stairs. 

“Yeah, well, you can’t see it anyway, and you’re going to have to fight me for i– _AH_!”

Wrong choice of words. In the middle of his embarrassment Ichigo forgets that their first meeting involved her pinning him down on the floor without even using a whole hand and winds up with her full body tackling him to the floor and wrestling to turn him over.

"Get _off_ me you rejected Christmas elf!”

“That’s two strikes against you today, strawberry, give it up and let me see–”

“No! You’re crushing my ribs–”

“Good!” Rukia rolls him over with a well placed combo of foot and arm and in his hands is–

“…Miffy?”

Here we go. Ichigo inwardly thanks Rukia for turning him over so she can’t see his face. “Shut up.”

Her gentle hands prying the small stuff animal loose of his iron grip surprises him but he still doesn’t roll over. It’s not just _any_ Miffy–it’s the one with the crocheted red dress, much like the one Yuzu gave her last year for the summer, not that Ichigo had specifically searched for one like it and that he really _really_ liked how she looked in the dress, but now she’s leaning over and patting the back of his head. “Ichigo.”

“Shut up.”

“You’d be more cute if I could see your face.” Ichigo turns on instinct to bite an insult over his shoulder but Rukia is still sitting on his lower back and his cheek hits her lips; she kisses his burning cheek and he immediately goes limp in response. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll think about revoking your strikes tonight.”


	4. a crossroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @deathberryprompts for the theme ‘excuses’. Very heavily implied ishihime, warning for adultery.

Ichigo scrawls a note and tacks it onto the fridge, his name and phone number and that he’d be out. When Orihime calls, he doesn’t answer. Rukia doesn’t answer either. **  
**

She sets Kazui down to nap and calls Ishida over.

*

“I’ve got a work conference two prefectures over.” A kiss, and then goodbye.

He emails her once the whole three days to say he’s arrived, and then nothing. Rukia’s car isn’t in her driveway. Toting Kazui and a heavy heart, this time she finds herself at Ishida’s.

*

They don’t argue. Orihime packs his bags with gentle hands and simply says, “I knew. You didn’t have to make excuses.”


	5. venganza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @deathberryprompts for the theme ‘vengeance’.

> i.

Rukia’s hair sticks to her face, wet with tears, as she yells over her shoulder at Ichigo: _stay put, or I’ll never forgive you_.

Ichigo can’t move, can’t reach out to catch the final flutter of her skirt, and instead imagines holding Zangetsu in the same hand, run straight through Byakuya’s throat as he apologizes.

> ii.

Grimmjow’s hand, Rukia’s heart, Ichigo’s voice. He doesn’t remember her falling to the ground. Grimmjow’s eyes and grin widen while Ichigo, animalistic, pulses with iron hot anger. _Kill, kill, kill._

> iii.

Ichigo doesn’t notice the flash of light bursting through Rukia’s shihakusho, instead drawn to the point of Tsukishima’s sword where it’s headed straight for Rukia’s chest, her heart; once more he doesn’t hear his own voice.

It’s only when he sees blood dripping from Riruka’s mouth that his grip around Rukia’s waist lessens.

> iv.

A final kiss goodbye at the Karakura bridge and he can’t even enjoy it; as their lips touch, Ywhach’s voice echoing his promise of vengeance at Ichigo’s happiest time, his hands sting from the lack of Zangetsu’s reassuring weight. Ichigo’s watch stops, the steady ticking ceasing as he catches the shadow of her wiping her cheeks with the same hand he held as he told her, once more, _thank you_.


	6. as above so below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @deathberryprompts theme ‘paradise’.

A ghost can even hold your hand; the tendons in Ichigo’s hand flex around where Zangetsu should be but instead it curls around his badge, solid, sharp, and too large for his liking. Despite that it soothes him, his last lingering touch into the spiritual world.

Rukia. He hasn’t heard her voice in a while. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, frantic that he’s forgotten her face. His heart pounding, he jams his hand underneath his pillow until he touches wood and design.

His heart slows. It feels just as cold as her hand.

Like Dante being lead to heaven, Ichigo lets himself be guided by her.

 _“but all those souls grace the Empyrean;_  
and each of them has gentle life though some  
sense the Eternal Spirit more, some less.”  
– Paradiso, Dante’s Divine Comedy


	7. liar liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @deathberryprompts themes ‘truth - bridge - knife’. set during we do (knot) always love you.

Rukia stands so pretty in her veil, dancing flowers glittering just like her eyes. It’s the first time today that she doesn’t tell the truth when Ichigo, solid and black clad behind her, asks if she’s crying. **  
**

"No.”

***

“Yes.”

The utterance of the second lie comes from where she stands beside Renji.

***

They haven’t met at the bridge for years. In Ichigo’s mind, they’ve met hundreds of times. This time should be no different but today Ichigo holds a glossy photo between two fingers. Rukia is bathed in the glow of his camera flash, the cloudless Seireitei sky. It’s the prettiest he’s ever seen her.

The heartbroken look on her face stabs Ichigo in the gut, a twisting knife so brutal he hunches over the bridge railing and the guttural sob falls naturally.


	8. tundra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @deathberryprompts for the theme ‘queen’.

A barren snowscape leads to spiraling porcelain towers, a spotless palace of prestige. Upon a frozen throne Sode no Shirayuki sits, hands folded, and watches the long hallway at her feet. **  
**

Rukia stands in the middle, a tiara of ice upon her head and glittering like frozen rain in her hair. The breeze stirs, chills coursing up her arms and back; she does not falter in her steps or posture as she treads with poise and grace. She’s going to leave again; Sode misses her every time.

Sode’s fingers are colder, icier from holding the crystalline crown and placing it upon her head. “You’ve become strong,” she echoes Byakuya’s words. The proud jump in Rukia’s heartbeat throbs underneath Sode’s own ribs, and they both exchange smiles.

As the palatial doors open wide and yawning light streams in, illuminating the palace with the black sun overhead.


	9. in memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a speedwrite done on skype for a friend, hence no capitalization.

ichigo likes literature. symbolism, the deeper introspection, it makes the gears turn in his head and his fingers continue flipping pages. there’s an empty sort of feeling under his ribs and fingertips whenever he finally closes the cover and winds up turning it over so the author portrait doesn’t stare at him as he sleeps.

a consideration he’s kept tucked close like dog eared pages is writing a novel of his own life. it’s boring for the most part and maybe people would enjoy his deadpan recounts of the time his father ate too much fish and stunk up the bathroom for a week but then he crumples up that draft with a roll of his eyes.

cue rukia, entering stage right in all black and violet eyes cutting him deeper than paper cuts ever will. now he wants to weave yarns about the pages describing how much he hates the kicks she delivers to her gut and loves the twirl of her hakama when she turns and looks at him over her shoulder.

he’ll never write it. he’s teenage angst, brash and bruised knuckles. he doesn’t do pretty words about pretty girls but he does stare into her eyes with a longing born of lovers separated by time and her own is reflected back in her pupils.

besides, ichigo hates endings. as she disappears behind the supernatural sliding doors toward the seireitei, scarred and singed by blades and wrong fate, his heart and fingertips cry out for her touch that sings ‘to be continued’ instead of a crushing ‘PERFECT END’.


End file.
